No, wait.
The forecast is refreshing.
And she’s right.
Sometime in the past few hours, we’ve gotten a winter storm watch starting tomorrow afternoon.
With a likelihood of a foot to a foot and a half of snow across the metropolitan area before noon Sunday.
She leaves my glass on the counter in front of me and grabs the bowl to fill it with water too.
“Go sit.” I reach around her and take the bowl. “I’ve got this.”
“Too many boxes to pack to sit.”
“Sit. My dog needs a warm lap. She hates snow. Plus, you have a cookie that shouldn’t be neglected. You’re morally obligated now.”
Goldie leans back against the counter and crosses her arms, looking at me like I’m missing something incredibly obvious.
Oh. Right. Duh. “I’ll pack your boxes. You need any groceries? Want me to go fight the masses to get you bread and milk that you won’t be able to finish before you move? Is it actually a snowstorm if you don’t participate in the emptying of the egg section?”
She laughs at that, her eyes twinkling merrily, and there goes my heart again.
Flopping around like a fish on a bank in desperate need of finding a puddle of murky water to hide in.
“Between my stash of Biscoff cookies, chocolate bars thatsomeonebought me at the bookstore last week, now a cookie the size of my head, and my emergency stash of muscle relaxers, I should be fine,” she says as she shoves away from the counter and limps into the living room. “Thank you. But if you need to get your own blizzard survival food?—”
“Got enough chicken to last me a week.”
She’s still smiling, but she’s clearly in pain as she walks. “Enough kibble for Sweet Pea too?”
“She eats more chicken than I do.Sit. Let a guy be useful. Unless there are books here you don’t want me to know you own.”
“You got me. I don’t want you to figure out which of my books is a secret lever to open my even-more secret laboratory.”
“Evil genius intentionally trying to destroy the world kind of lab, or diabolical life coach working on a secret serum that’ll trick your clients into doing the work they say they’re going to do and then don’t kind of lab?”
“If I told you, I’d have to make you the first victim of my serum.” She squats, winces so hard she gasps, then goes all the way down to her knees on the floor in front of the left bookshelf.
Stubborn woman.
I’m at her side in an instant, squatting despite my own knees and quads groaning while I reach for her arm. “Get your ass out of the way and let me pack your boxes.”
Stop fucking feeling like you’re sucking in on yourself, heart.
“Sitting hurts.”
“Clearly, so does standing. And squatting. And kneeling. And walking.”
“I was going to lie down for half an hour on an ice pack andthentackle the boxes,” she mutters. “But now I want to earn a cookie.”
“Congratulations. You’re breathing. You’ve earned a cookie.”
I unstrap Sweet Pea and set her on the floor. Her paws are barely touching the wood before she’s darting to Goldie, trying to climb up onto her thighs.
And when Goldie winces one more time, I growl.
“Okay. Okay.” She throws her hands up. “You win.”
